Stay
by TheChemistJorax
Summary: Miranda desired more than what she was being given. She needed more. The problem was, Shepard did too.


A/N: I PROMISED MYSELF I WOULD TAKE A BREAK FOR AT LEAST A WEEK AND THEN THIS HAPPENED. Help, I can't stop.

Um, so I don't know if this should be M or T? I put it as M to be safe but it is supposed to be more about emotion than sex…I'm not a huge fan of just plain old sex… I was going to say T but I got scared of being yelled at so I'm going to go with M. Let me know if I made the wrong call please and I shall fix it.

* * *

"Do you have a minute, Miranda?" Shepard had asked upon entering. She never faltered from the question; those were always the first words to pass between her lips. At first Miranda had branded the event as mere idiocy on the commander's part, but as time passed and her knowledge of the woman grew more intimate, she began to fall under the impression she was being purposely irritated by the repetition. Shepard loved to play her little games, and more often than not Miranda found herself being cajoled into becoming the woman's opponent.

Miranda stood from her desk, moving along the edge of it until she stood directly in front of her superior. She had more than a minute, and she found herself in the mood to forget. There was always work to be done of course, mind numbingly simple and positively beneath her ability. That had become less appealing than her other option of late however, and it was hard to resist Shepard when the woman offered herself so freely and often. The day's events had been brutal and hard to process even for a mind of her caliber. The mission had been full of treachery and deceit, and it would take a distraction like Shepard to wipe the slate clean, if only for a night.

From day one Miranda had known she held more than just a casual interest for her new commander. The woman seemed to always have an eye on her, quick to ask questions and pry deeper even when she was so obviously being pushed away. It had never truly bothered Miranda as she had long since become used to attention from many of the people she worked with, both desired and otherwise. Being evaluated, ogled, it was just another part of daily life. Though she had been far from truly interested herself, Shepard proved to be of a decent sort. As time passed and the pressure on the pair of them increased, Miranda had merely taken one of Shepard's frequent visits to the next level, knowing she would not be rebuffed or rejected. It was a surefire way to let loose the tension and frustration that built up over Miranda's long working hours, and she knew Shepard was both trustworthy and respectful enough to keep their meetings private. She found release and Shepard was granted time with the object of her desire, everybody came out a winner.

There were the unspoken rules of course, as Miranda was far from a soft woman, a fact she prided herself on. Sex. That was what they were having. That was the only thing they would _ever _be having. Never expect anything, never ask for more. Miranda initiates, Miranda takes the lead. No touching in public, minimal talking throughout. Little eye contact, no cuddling, leave before daybreak. It was sex, and when the sex was over, there was no reason to linger, as there was far too much work to do.

Shepard obeyed the wordless instructions. It was written all over Miranda's body every encounter. I'm using you, and if you don't like that then you are free to leave. There was respect of course, Miranda was far too much of a professional to show anything otherwise, but it was still made clear who was calling the shots. Shepard was granted this privilege as long as she played by the rules, and when Miranda was through with her, she had better not have any expectations.

The first time it had happened Shepard had been shocked, but far from unhappy with the development. She took to the new situation with earnest, quick to learn what was acceptable and what was not, and more than eager to please. It had been almost endearing, if Miranda were honest, just how much Shepard had pushed for more in the beginning. She never outright asked for a more classic relationship, but she made her intentions clear with her soft caresses and sidelong glances. Miranda had gone down that path before though, and knew all too well what the end of that story would look like. She was gorgeous and intelligent, and her reluctance to divulge personal information gave her an almost mysterious aura. That was what drew the people in; those were the things to which they were attracted.

It was frustrating, how many people in the past had assumed there was something more only to be disappointed. They would look for a soft center or something to fix. It was as though they _wanted _her to be broken, this beautiful, cold, woman that they could bathe with affection until her exterior crumbled and she learned to love. It was ridiculous, and more than a little insulting.

Miranda could never be quite sure if those were the intentions of Shepard's clear interest, but it didn't matter. She had little use for emotional entanglement, and even less so for the foolish notion of potential love. Yes, she was used to performing the impossible in her day to day work life, but to seek out a sentiment that was so obviously doomed to fail was just moronic. The only person you could trust without question was yourself, everyone else was a potential threat.

It had not taken long for Shepard to catch on to Miranda's true intentions after their first foray under the sheets, and though she knew it would only end in personal suffering, she continually came back for more. Miranda was an addiction, beautiful and deadly and far too fantastic to pull away from. Shepard couldn't put an end to it, she was physically unable. There was always that hope, that tickle in the back of her mind. Maybe this would be the time, the one where Miranda gave in. Maybe she had just been nervous or scared and was denying her feelings. Maybe she was holding back and it would all come rushing out.

It never did.

Shepard was someone Miranda could almost consider a friend in some respects. She did legitimately enjoy the conversations they shared, and the fact that their horizontal encounters had occurred more than once proved they were more than satisfactory. The commander was one of the few people she did not find near intolerable. They had been getting on well, laughing more often than she had first expected, and had established an almost playful rapport. Even still, Miranda was simply not looking for more from the woman. She had her work and herself, nothing and no one else was essential. What she possessed was enough.

In her life, it had to be. There was simply no room for more, and Shepard would have to learn to accept that.

At first, the act had been almost odd for Miranda despite her initiating it, as if she were merely doing the careful scans and evaluations she had preformed daily for the past two years. The feeling quickly faded however, and in the end her work on the woman had made it more exciting in a way. Experiencing those pieces she had stitched together from nothing trembling and convulsing under her expert touch was exhilarating. It was her own ingenuity at work, responding to her every command and whim perfectly without fail.

As Miranda approached, Shepard swallowed in nervous anticipation. She knew the look that was shinning so brightly in Miranda's intent gaze, knew what promises it held. She also knew how powerless it made her. Shepard tried her hardest to stay focused, even as Miranda's arms snaked up around the back of her neck. She had come for a discussion, a serious talk about the events of the day. There was no room for distraction, Miranda had been hurt and she needed a friend more than simple physical companionship.

"Miranda," Shepard struggled to speak, but it was incredibly hard to continue as the woman's lips enveloped her own. "I think we," she started when Miranda pulled back, but was swiftly silenced once more. "should talk about this," she breathed out into the other woman's lips when she was able.

A wry smile pulled across Miranda's face and she tugged her commander closer, drawing their bodies as near as she was able. "You may not have caught on," she leaned in close to Shepard's ear, whispering with suggestive proximity, "but I'm not really in the mood for talking."

Shepard shuddered at the promise in her tone, unable to control her body's reactions. Miranda was intoxicating, and Shepard's hands seemed to trail up to rest on her waist of their own accord. "Please, Miranda," she practically begged, knowing if Miranda continued to push she would be helpless. The woman clearly had no intention of being obedient. She was less than keen at the idea of discussing more of her past and so took to distracting Shepard with much enthusiasm. Shepard was looking for an emotional heart to heart, but there was only one thing Miranda needed from her.

"Wait," Shepard tried again. She quickly lost the objection as Miranda's lips met the skin of her neck though. The woman was sending a clear message that it would be best for Shepard to stop talking. For her part, Shepard had almost expected this. The inner workings of Miranda were difficult to discover on a normal day, let alone on one like this. She knew how far Miranda would go to bury her emotions, which meant she had to be strong enough to say no. It was far from an easy task; especially once Miranda began tugging her gently towards the bed, obscuring her movements with distractingly dominate kisses. "Stop," she tried, even as she was pulled more than willingly onto the mattress.

Miranda had her on her back in seconds, straddling her superior with a possessive glint in her eye. Shepard was in her domain now, and the night was going to go only how she intended it. She captured Shepard's mouth hungrily, smiling into the lips as she felt the woman's hips grind up into hers of their own accord.

Pulling away is what had lead to her downfall, Miranda would later realize. Shepard had been so completely subdued, undeniably hers for the night. Every protest she had tried to utter had turned into a guttural moan, she was totally lost in Miranda. But of course, she had slipped up. Miranda pulled away to rid her conquest of her confining uniform, tugging it impatiently over the woman's form with little trouble. In doing so she had given Shepard the chance she needed to regain her senses, to refocus her argument.

"Listen to me."

Miranda panicked. The shirt of the uniform was across the room in seconds, and her lips were hovering back over Shepard's defensively. She stayed in the familiar territory for only a moment before making a tantalizingly slow descent down her chest, knowing it was a surefire way to refocus the woman on what was really important.

Shepard groaned at the contact, struggling to stay on topic. She needed to put her selfishness aside, Miranda was what was important. She had to stop it, for her sake. "Niket," she finally managed to whisper breathlessly.

Despite her annoyance at the continual interruptions, Miranda looked up at the woman with a cynical smile. "That's a new one for me," she sighed out, knowing this wouldn't continue until Shepard was given at least a few words that comforted her fears considering her friend's mental health.

Shepard chuckled, offering a hard look that carried little weight. "You know what I mean."

Shaking her head, Miranda looked down on the woman with narrowed eyes. "Shepard, it's fine. Everything worked out. My sister is safe." Her voice was heavy with authority.

"It's clearly not fine," Shepard challenged without pause. "Miranda, you were freaking out back there. Those feelings didn't just go away." She looked up at Miranda with a pleading gaze, she wanted so badly for her to open herself up, to share every mundane thought and feeling without hesitation. She wanted to hold Miranda's trust, just as the woman so completely held hers.

"They did," Miranda insisted with conviction. She rolled her hips along Shepard's to emphasize her point.

"No," Shepard moaned out as her body arched into the motion involuntarily. "I don't think-" Miranda continued the motion relentlessly. "Um-" Her hands discovered Shepard's breast. "Wait-" Her lips soon followed. Shepard lost herself once more in the contact, desperately trying to secure her thoughts in her mind to no avail. She was letting Miranda down, she knew. She was failing on the woman's behalf.

Miranda suddenly filled her vision with a smug smirk planted on her face. "Were you saying something, Commander?" she questioned innocently, sitting up to make teasingly slow work of her own uniform.

Shepard watched attentively, mouth dry. "God, you're distracting," she mumbled bitterly, hating herself for not realizing what a difficult task denying Miranda Lawson would be.

Miranda let out a rare laugh at that. "It's a gift," she offered in feigned arrogance.

She made to move in closer once more, but Shepard halted her progress with a steady hand on each side of the woman's waist. "Miranda, I just want to make sure you're okay," she said sincerely. "It just seemed like the whole thing got way out of hand and I feel like you-"

An expression that fell between the border of irritation and anger flashed across Miranda's delicate features. "Don't you dare analyze me," she warned, though there was less bite in the words than she intended.

Shepard glanced away apologetically. "I'm sorry. I just-"

Miranda let out an uncharacteristic groan. "What do you want me to say?" She moved to lie atop the woman more comfortably, burying her face in the exposed skin of Shepard's neck. "That there was one person in this universe that I could trust to be with without feeling like I always needed an escape route planned? That there was only a single being who knew everything that I am and never expected a thing from me in return? That I thought there was someone out there that belonged to me and there wasn't a thing my father could do about it?"

"Yes," Shepard whispered into her hair earnestly. "Tell me that," she begged, "and everything else you're thinking."

Miranda stiffened at the words. "I don't need a therapy session, Shepard, so just drop it." She lifted her head to catch the woman's gaze. "I was wrong about all that, about everything I thought he was. I let sentimentality get in the way when I knew what the stakes were and I paid for my mistakes. I learned my lesson and it's over." She had attempted to say the words with professional conviction, ignoring the roughness of her throat as she tried to reign in the wayward emotions that were welling up.

"Obviously, it's not," Shepard whispered sadly, reaching up to wipe away a tear Miranda hadn't felt form with a gentle thumb.

Miranda turned her face away, embarrassed. "Don't worry about it, Shepard." She continued, hoping to regain some of her lost dignity. "It's done, and you were right about what you said in the elevator," she added kindly. "I still have one person. Oriana is safe, and I'll always have her as long as I keep her that way."

That should be the end of it, Miranda thought. They could move on and continue with more enticing activities and she would go to sleep comforted and satisfied. That was that, except apparently Shepard had other ideas. Something flashed across her face at Miranda's words, an emotion that had never found a home there before.

Shepard was patient and kind. She tolerated failure and praised success. Rarely did she have a harsh word or reprimanding tone. Now though, she looked tired, frustrated, and maybe even a little angry. Miranda watched the transformation, perplexed as the woman glared up at her.

"You really think she's the only one?" Shepard sounded bitter and cold.

Miranda's heart clenched as a flood of hot emotion burned through her system until it pooled almost violently in her very core.

Sex, Miranda had told herself. Stress releasing, comforting, pleasing, sex. That was what they shared, she had always maintained. Even when Shepard explored her with such attentive and gentle hands, she had claimed it was simple sex. Shepard was respectful and never assumed ownership or claimed privileges; she waited for permission, taking in all orders both physical and verbal with intense concentration. She was capable of stirring things in Miranda the woman had never known existed, and still Miranda denied them. It was sex because sex was a known factor. It was safe, comfortable. There was no confusion, no hurt.

But then, there were moments like this, moments where the intensity of Shepard's gaze left her breathless and quivering. She wrestled with two sudden warring impulses, the desire to flee, and the desire to wrap herself in Shepard and offer everything to the woman. It was maddening. It was against the rules, _her _rules. It wasn't allowed.

Miranda swallowed. "I-"

Suddenly, she was on her back, the woman hovering over her with a perplexing expression etched across her features. Something deep in Miranda stirred hungrily at Shepard's sudden and unexpected show of dominance. Despite her rank, it was always Miranda who was the commanding one during their more intimate visits. The woman knew what she wanted and how to get it; Shepard had been the means to that end. "I thought I made the nature of our arrangement perfectly clear," she finally managed to breath out.

"You did," Shepard agreed, an insufferably smug grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she realized Miranda wasn't resisting her control. No, Miranda had never allowed Shepard to take charge before. Now though, Shepard was on a mission because Miranda was being stubborn and foolish and indulging in the woeful regrets of the past when the future was so obviously waiting for her, dragging its tongue down her skin and making teasing promises with its fingers.

With a furrowed brow, Miranda continued. "When this is all over, we're going our separate ways," she asserted with confidence in the statement, though her words lost some of their punch as Shepard's teeth scraped delicately along her neck. She squirmed beneath the woman's ministrations, panicking as control quickly slipped from her grasp. Her hands clenched tightly in Shepard's hair as the woman explored her chest with an expert tongue.

Shepard paused after a few moments. "Is that what you want?" she asked quietly, a smile on her face when Miranda all but whimpered at the loss of contact. As soon as she said the words Shepard resumed her work, traveling steadily downwards to make quick work of what remained of Miranda's clothing. Her hands were everywhere at once, and yet somehow never in the place that really mattered.

Miranda groaned in frustration at Shepard's blatant teasing. She tried to focus on the word as persistent fingers trailed down to dip into her only to immediately shy away. "Yes?" Miranda managed between heavy pants.

Shepard laughed. "Are you asking me, or telling me?" she questioned while her fingers grew more daring in their investigation. She pushed into Miranda gently, earning a sharp gasp, before pulling back once more. As she waited for the woman to respond, the rest of Shepard travelled down Miranda's body in a frustratingly slow manner. Miranda's legs flexed involuntarily as soon as she felt Shepard's warm breath so tantalizingly _almost _where it should be and her eyes screwed shut while she completely forget there had ever been a question to answer at all.

"Miss Lawson?" Shepard's voice dragged her back into reality.

"No," Miranda moaned at the loss when Shepard's mouth had pulled away.

"No?" She could hear the infuriating amusement in the woman's voice.

"Yes," Miranda amended quickly, remembering the question with hot embarrassment. Yes was the proper answer. Yes.

"Oh," Shepard sighed out sadly, as she placed a gentle finger on Miranda, making slowly, lazy circles around the one spot the woman so desperately needed her to be. "That's a shame."

Miranda's body arched into her touch, frantically seeking the proper attention it craved. Shepard was driving her mad. "No," she whispered, desperate to regain Shepard's ministrations.

There was a laugh. "Yes? No?" Suddenly, the heat of her breath was back and Miranda found herself shivering in anticipation. "Do make up your mind, Miss Lawson."

Miranda would have answered, had she been able, but as it was Shepard's tongue was upon her at last and there really was no coming back from that. She was vaguely aware that Shepard was breaking all of the rules, crossing all of the boundaries she had carefully laid down. So, she was obviously feeling intense annoyance. Or was that absolute delight? Was she frustrated? Or was that warm rushing sensation bliss?

"Well I'm here now, whether you like it or not," Shepard was suddenly saying, steady fingers replacing her mouth, "until the day you ask me to leave. So if you want me to go, now would be the time to speak up."

Miranda's hands were gliding through her hair, fingers tugging frantically as the woman unconsciously searched for any way to ground herself. She could barely process Shepard's words, let alone respond, as her body underwent such thorough manipulation.

"So what will it be?" Shepard persisted, ignoring the torment she was so clearly putting Miranda through. There were no words in response, only quite moans, sounding almost like a plea to her ears. Miranda desired more than what she was being given. She _needed _more.

The problem was, Shepard did too.

"Tell me to go," Shepard whispered, her fingers picking up their pace. Just enough to get Miranda excited, but hardly enough to offer any real fulfillment.

"I-" she whimpered, digging her nails almost painfully into Shepard's scalp.

"Beg me to disappear," Shepard ordered, her breath driving Miranda insane.

"Please-" Miranda was positively writhing beneath her, her hips rising and falling as though they were trying to seek the other woman out.

"Say the word, and I'll vanish, just like you wanted." Shepard's fingers were gone, her warmth disappeared, and Miranda was left feeling positively empty. Her body ached, screaming for the other woman with every ending of every nerve. Her hands fell to her sides heavily at the loss, clenching the sheets in her fists with frustration.

Her eyes screwed up tightly as her body throbbed, completely unsatisfied. "Stay," it was a breathless whisper, more a whine than a word.

"What?" Shepard was back, waiting for the commitment, the promise. She hovered over the woman, more than delighted to continue what she had started, waiting for a single word.

"I said-" Her focus vanished as Shepard persisted for her sake, almost ruthless in her pace. Miranda's body tightened as she was overcome by Shepard. She shook her head as Shepard pushed on, dragging her closer and closer towards ecstasy. Her body trembled, quivered, clenched, released, exploded. "Stay," she gasped out breathlessly, shuddering when Shepard showed no signs of stopping her assault.

Miranda would never admit her fears aloud, would never let Shepard reassure her vocally, that just wasn't the way she operated. And so, Shepard spent the night soothing her with every touch.

'I'm not like the rest of them,' her hands assured Miranda.

'It won't be the same,' her fingers promised.

'I'll never betray you,' her lips swore.

'Your heart is safe with me,' her tongue pledged.

Unbelievably, impossibly, Miranda found she believed every word.

* * *

A/N: Help, I have OTP in my brain and I can't function. Call the police, my life is ruined. Probably a oneshot? I'll sleep on it, but yeah. Most likely oneshot.


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